Tag Archives: Meditation

They say that love is a battlefield. Forget that. Self-love is the real battlefield.

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I have been aware of my weight for the last ten years. I have been aware of the numbers on the scale going up and down over those ten years for a number of reasons including but certainly not limited to, and in no particular order:

being on ritalin for adhd

going off of ritalin

going on vyvanse for binge eating disorder and adhd

falling in love

being in a long distance relationship

being broken up with

ending relationships

my parents getting divorced

starting college

hating parts of college

putting on weight when starting birth control

counting calories and restricting my food intake to lose weight

learning a gym routine that helped me build muscle

ignoring that I was allowing myself to go back to my old eating habits as soon as I’d reach my goal weight

periods of time when I wouldn’t get on the scale for months at a time

beginning to recognize my binge eating as an eating disorder

working on understanding why I binge when it happens

going to therapy

going to acupuncture

beginning a mindful eating practice

going off of birth control after being on it for ten years

Needless to say, there have been innumerable factors that have taken me from one number to another on the life scale.

My body has gone through a lot of changes this year, which is no surprise given that it has gone through so many changes every year. But this year in particular I went off birth control, I started going to acupuncture, I started a mindful eating practice, and I fell in love- and that combination of things caused me to lose some weight that I had not set out intentionally trying to lose. Fitting into my old jeans has thrown me in a way that I was not expecting.

When I look in the mirror and I fit into jeans that I should have gotten rid of when I purged my closet of all the things I wanted to stop hoping I would someday fit into again, I’m filled with angst. I don’t know if I’ve ever written about this, but the thin and less thin versions of myself feel a bit like Jekyll and Hyde.

When I’ve been at thinner weights, I’ve gotten more attention from everyone. In the past I’ve liked that attention, and I’ve responded to it. Sometimes I’ve done reckless things because having that attention made me feel so powerful. I’ve learned a lot from that. People have assumed I was less intelligent when I’ve been thinner, which made and makes me angry. To this day, the gazes I get from men feel more predatory when I weigh less- and it’s hard to know whether I’m projecting that or not. When I’m thinner I see a younger version of myself looking back at me in the mirror, and the vibrancy of my inner child feels like it shines through more intensely. All of these feelings exist concurrently, even when at odds with each other. The times I’ve been thinner have corresponded with both self-hate (calorie counting, starvation, not going out with friends to avoid calories) and also times of self-love (working on mindful eating, listening to what my body wants and needs, responding to how certain foods make my body feel, etc). The fact that most people respond to you getting thinner in the same congratulatory way every time (not knowing what route you took to get there) feels abrasive against my heart and soul- even when they are trying to be complimentary.

When I’ve been at less thin weights, I have more anonymity within which to navigate the world. It feels like people take more more seriously- at least people who don’t know me. Maybe I take myself more seriously. I don’t worry about getting hit on, or attracting attention that I don’t want. Times of my life when I’ve weighed more have also corresponded with times of depression, and being so far into running away from my feelings that I would binge eat in a way that felt akin to blacking out. Thanks to Geneen Roth’s books in particular, I have made strides on working through my relationship with food (and yes, I had to eat a LOT of cookie dough, and gain about 15 pounds, to get to the place where I am today, some 25 pounds less).

For the first time in my life I have a partner who wants to proactively communicate and support one another in our respective struggles and journeys in self-love. For the first time in my life I have someone else to consider when thinking about doing something that is long-term harmful to my body, as does he. That is a whole new piece to this that is already having a positive impact on both of us, which feels really, really good.

At the end of the day, whether I’m 138 or 168, I’m still going to have Binge Eating Disorder. It’s still going to be something that I have to work to keep in check by constantly gravitating in and out of my self-care practice. I sat down to write this piece many times, and it was hard. These last few weeks of confusion over why I’ve been able to fit into size 4 and size 6 dresses, struggling with the fear of re-gaining weight which leads to binge eating (see how this is a negative cycle?), before coming back to self-love, compassion, and acceptance, has all been a reminder that I’m on a journey with a body that will never be permanent. I’ll leave you with a piece from “You Are Here,” that I’ve been trying to keep at the front of mind lately. Hope it helps you too. *

“Our body is not a static thing- it changes all the time. It is very important to see our physical form as something impermanent, as a river that is constantly changing. Every cell in our body is a drop of water in that river… We should train ourselves in this vision of impermanence. When we look deeply at the nature of things, we see that in fact everything is impermanent. Nothing exists as a permanent entity; everything changes. It is said that we cannot step into the same river twice. If we look for a single, permanent entity in a river, we will not find it. The same is true of our physical body. There is no such thing as a self, no absolute, permanent entity to be found in the element we call “body.” In our ignorance we believe that there is a permanent entity in us, and our pain and suffering manifest on the basis of that ignorance. If we touch deeply the non-self nature in us, we can get out of that suffering.” -Thich Nhat Hanh

In the last few months I’ve felt better overall than I have in a long time. My current combination of self-care practices seem to be working well for the most part, and it feels good when I’m able to maintain a feeling of balance for extended periods of time. My main struggle continues to be meeting the sense of losing balance with stress and frustration. After a wonderful Sunday of biking around the city, lounging in the rose garden in Golden Gate Park, and hanging out with friends, I woke up feeling anxious and stressed on Monday (primarily related to pending housing uncertainties). My inner dialogue starts up the anxious thoughts of, “Ugh, but I was doing so well yesterday!” and, “I must immediately figure out a plan! That’s the only way to get out of this stress!” When I allow myself to fuel these thoughts with similar ones like them, the fire spreads, and I have a much harder time remembering the tactics that help me maintain balance.

Part of the issue here is the false narrative that because I was “doing so well yesterday” (read: feeling happy) the reappearance of stress or anxiety signals that I’m no longer “doing well”. Feeling balanced, like anything in life, is not a linear trajectory, which is extremely hard to remember in moments that feel anything like a setback or a failure. I try to remind myself that the movement above and below the state of balance is a cycle. Unfortunately I still forget this, and worry when the lower feelings surface or catch me by surprise.

Fortunately, the more awareness I have (depending on the levels of self-care being maintained), the better able I am to disconnect with stress becoming all consuming and eventually somewhat apocalyptic. I strengthen my awareness through meditation, and setting intentions. The following four (and a half) intentions have become the base of my practice, and seem to work well at helping me achieve the balance I need to feel calm and collected throughout my days. I try to pick one to focus on each day, though ideally they’d all be in practice at once!

1. Focus on now, not yesterday, and not tomorrow. This intention is my foundation. As a planner, I tend to channel my anxiety into try to create stability by planning everything out. (Spoiler: it ends up making me more anxious). By reminding myself that I don’t need to worry about what is going to happen in the future, or even in more than a few hours from now, I take the weight of trying to predict the future off my shoulders. Not getting caught up in thinking about / worrying / analyzing past is equally as distracting and unhelpful. It’s over, there’s nothing else I can do about it, just let it go, (as much as this is easier said than done).

1.5 Do one thing at a time. This is closely linked to the foundation intention, but I figured it deserved its own half bullet. Like planning, multitasking is something I do when I’m stressed. The idea becomes something along the lines of, “If I can get everything done, then I can relax,” but ultimately gets more stressful as I’m not fully present with anything. When I am fully present with each task I have the headspace to say, “huh- I may not have time to complete my whole to-do list right now- that’s totally okay.” This is extremely freeing, and without being present intentionally it is so much harder to be aware of the world and people (and their thoughts and feelings) around me.

2. Remember self-love/care/support. There’s a part in my meditation packs that asks you to remind yourself why you’re doing the meditation and then think about the people it will benefit. I always start with, “because I love myself, and I’m here to support myself,” which always brings the biggest smile to my face. When I’m focusing on self-love I take time to do nice things for myself like getting a massage, buying myself a kombucha, noticing how happy I feel when I’m cozy on the couch with a book and my slippers on, calling my grandparents, watching the sunrise, etc. Exercise is an important daily self-care ritual for me, but I’ve learned that it must be kept in the context of, “I am doing this because it will make my body and mind feel good,” and if it starts to feel like something I must do instead of something I want to do, that’s a sign my body needs to rest.

3. Engage with the world. When I’m aware of my surroundings I’m able to disengage with my inner dialogue and interact with the outside world in a positive manner. Smiling at fellow humans when crossing paths, saying “bless you” to someone who sneezes on the bus, offering assistance to someone clearly confused or needing it, asking how the bus driver is doing- all of these kinds of interactions prove to increase my optimism in humanity, and as a bonus, make me feel better in turn. Remembering that everyone is fighting their own battle and dealing with their own plethora of thoughts and feelings is another way to lessen feelings of isolation. We really are all in this together.

4. Appreciate and give thanks. A few Thanksgivings ago my Mother hung a banner that said “give thanks” spelled out in a bunting style with metal letters over our table. She let me keep the banner and it now hangs in my room next to my bed, a reminder to give thanks every day. When I focus on being grateful I am often filled with amazement at the beauty of my life. I am surrounded and supported by so many wonderful friends, family members, and coworkers. I live in one of the most beautiful cities on the planet that gives me access to clean drinking water and clean air. The days I focus on gratitude I go to extra lengths to call, write, and connect with the people I love.

4.5 Nurture my family as people. I’m not sure why it took me so long to really connect with the idea that my family members are people too, but I’m glad it’s something I figured out sooner than later. I make a lot of effort to nurture my friendships, and know my friends very well, but this year I’ve been working on applying that to my family members as well. Getting to know my parents as people gives me a better understanding of them and myself. Finding out common interests I share with my grandparents has allowed my relationship with them, one I always took for granted, to become a source of deep enjoyment on both parts. Becoming fully aware that my extended family members are all individually complex, interesting people, who love me to boot, has been a wonderful realization (albeit a kind of, “well duh” one), and allowed me to focus time and effort on getting to know them in a way I wasn’t able to as a child and teenager. This is something I feel incredible gratitude for, and brings me joy in the moments when I feel the most alone. Through therapy I was about to let go of the ideas I held about what a “perfect” family was, and realize what incredible love and support my family gives me. I released the fantasy, let go over the disappointments, and discovered so much more. Leave the gun, take the cannoli. You won’t be disappointed.

I hadn’t planned to come to Mexico City, but when my program at Esalen fell through due to the storms we had this winter I did a quick whirl through my mental rolodex of places I’d like to go and people I’d like to see. So here I am, staying with an old friend from my summer in Santa Cruz. I’ve experienced every emotion this week- the empowerment and terror of solo traveling, the peace and stress of moving through a new city, the joys and sorrows of being alive. I came here with lots of notes I’d made on things I wanted to write about over the last month, but sitting in Maria’s peaceful apartment this morning, this is what came out of my fingers as I sat down to write (and to wait for Sufjan Stevens tickets to go on sale, if I’m being totally honest :P).

Two things have been surfacing for me lately that I’m working on reconfiguring, both necessitating the release of attachment (which it turns out continues to be amply hard to do).

The first is my tendency- knowing or unknowing- to use stress to motivate myself through my perceived to-do list. On the days I don’t roll out of bed and bike to the gym, I have a few hours before I need to be out the door. And yet, I find it so difficult to relax in my routine. The notion that I should just trust myself to get everything I need to do done makes me anxious. Instead of focusing on making coffee, and then focusing on meditating, etc, I run through the list in my brain, trying to move as quickly as possible. I’m not sure why I’m so afraid of being late- I rarely am. This tension between my mind wanting to get everything done before I run out of time conflicts with the pace my body wants to move at, naturally creating stress. I get attached to the idea that if I don’t finish everything, I’ll be late, and then everything will crash and burn. (My subconscious really has its melodramatic side). I wrote myself a note on an index card that says, “It’s okay to not get everything 100% done. It won’t kill you.” We’ll see how the does for inspiration.

The second is something I’m realizing has been a long term shenpa for me, something that has caused me pain repeatedly. (Worth reading anything by Pema Chodron for more on this). I’m very aware that I try to create a sense of security in my life by planning, which gives me a false sense of control. Taking that idea further though, I’ve realized how much pain I’ve caused myself when I’m applying this to situations of uncertainly. I think it started with watching my parent’s relationship dissolve slowly over many years. As I progressed through my adolescence and teenage years I numbed out my feelings whenever I heard them fighting, turning to music, books, situations that took me outside of my house like summer camp and my first serious relationship. It always broke my heart to leave the seemingly stable “family” communities or dynamics I found among groups of friends at summer camp, and I’d cry the whole way home- from the time I was 12-15. I dealt with hard outcomes by not really dealing with them, and at age 17, when my parents finally announced they were getting divorced, I was utterly devastated.

So I took to assuming the most negative outcomes for uncertain situations, and then trying to prepare myself for them. Unknowingly, of course.

This, coupled with an inability to validate and communicate my needs and feelings (which two years of therapy has begun to finally resolve), has gotten me into a lot of bad situations. If you assume that people are going to disappoint you, that your relationships will fail, that people won’t return the effort you put in- then how can that not become a self-fulfilling prophecy? Attaching to these negative outcomes made me feel like I had the upper hand, that I could act first and not get hurt. Turns out that doesn’t work at all. (Shocking).

I’ve been reading and re-reading two books by Rebecca Solnit recently- A Field Guide to Getting Lost, and The Faraway Nearby (which I think everyone should read). I came across a section in the latter which reads, “Buddhism takes change as a given and suffering as the inevitable consequence of attachment and then asks what you are going to do about it.” She continues later, “The coolness of Buddhism isn’t indifference but the distance once gains on emotions, the quiet place from which to regard the turbulence. From far away you see the pattern, the connections, and the thing as a whole, see all the islands and routes between them. Up close it all dissolves into texture and incoherence and immersion, like a face going out of focus just before a kiss.”

I connected wholeheartedly with these passages as the main focus of the work I’ve been doing through therapy, meditation, acupuncture and efforts of self-care and self-love over the last three years. As I begin to zoom out from my actions and understand what motivated them, I feel aftershocks of pain at the ways I acted and the ways I treated both myself and others. My therapist reminds me that I was young, and my friends remind me I can’t carry guilt for things others don’t want to work through. I’m surprised by the grief I’ve found in these reflections and new perspectives, but I’m sitting with it.

If nothing else, I can be empowered by the lessons I’ve learned, the actions I won’t repeat, and my continued effort to free myself from attachment across the board- however difficult and arduous of a journey that may be.

Here in San Francisco most of the houses are built so close together they are either touching or are only separated by a few inches. This makes sense given that there is such limited space (49 sq miles with height restrictions). You’d think if this was the case there would be some uniformity in the height of the houses on a single block, to give it some coherence. Occasionally this is the case, more often on blocks in the outer neighborhoods where a small handful of architects designed a good deal of the properties. You’ll still find sets of painted ladies (groups of three or more identical victorian style houses) where uniformity was clearly considered key, but you’ll also find blocks where a few of the painted ladies have been ripped down so these formerly neat rows are punctuated by boxy, modern-ish, rectangular houses. More often than not, most blocks are built with the heights and shapes of the houses jutting out at all kinds of angles and heights, like a miniature city skyline contained on a single block.

I was observing this phenomenon on my own block, while waiting for MUNI the other morning, and it reminded me of the way my mind works sometimes. As a natural born planner I’ve realized that one of my methods of attempting to feel secure and stable about the future is try to plan it all out- or at the very least, fantasize about what all the potential scenarios could look like in order to feel prepared. In this method, all of the houses on the block are built with intention, they all aligned evenly with thought out, corresponding color schemes and heights. A leads to B. Cause and effect relate with a clear sense of intentionality.

Ah, if only that was how life really worked.

But, of course, it doesn’t. We have no way to anticipate what the next phase of life, or even what the next day will bring. We can only be fairly confident, given all previous events, that it will all manage to fit on the same block- in spite of the unexpected shadows that will be cast. The most ironic part about trying to feel secure about the future by figuring out what it will look like is, of course, that it makes me really fucking anxious. So much for feeling secure and stable 😛

Luckily, through my meditation practice, I’m beginning to gain awareness in the moment that I’m trying to plan through fears or anxiety- whether it’s just forming to-do lists for the rest of the day, or those more long term projections that play out like telenovelas in my brain. Once I realize what my mind is doing, I can zoom out and ask myself what is triggering this defense mechanism. Because of the way my heart and brain work in tandem, it seems to often be a feeling that I need to really sit with and experience (while giving myself active self-love and self-support) before it will release me. The more regularly I’ve meditated, and then put into practice what I’ve learned through meditation throughout the day, the more of these types of windows I encounter, and the more opportunities I have to return to a balanced emotional equilibrium. As feelings of security and stability have begun to emerge from knowing I can support myself through what each day brings, the habit of descending into the frenzied feeling of, “if I can just get x, y, and z done, then I’ll feel okay” has slowly begun to subside.

I’ve been experiencing a new sensation lately. It’s one of being able to relax into my unstructured time with enjoyment- something that I didn’t even realize I’d lost until it started to return.

I’ll probably always be a planner, but as I’m learning to let go of the need for control, I’m beginning to learn the joy of spontaneity. Who ever would have thought that could happen?

A lot of interesting things have been coming together for me lately, intertwined in a typical style that prevents me from picking a single cause to attribute all the good stuff to. No matter- if it’s working, it’s working right?

On my last visit to LA, Lina suggested I try finding a student acupuncture clinic in San Francisco. Having passed along a few interesting nuggets of information from her first two quarters of acupuncture school, I was totally up to give acupuncture a try. I figured throwing some ancient Chinese medicine into the mix with therapy, exercise and meditation could only be a positive thing.

And fortunately I was 1000% correct- but not entirely for the reasons you might think.

My first acupuncture appointment lasted for two hours, and it cost me a whopping $30. I arrived and was introduced to the group of students I would be treated by, plus their supervisor Catherine (who reminds me so much of Lily Tomlin- or at least her character on Grace and Frankie- in the best possible way). The spent an hour taking turns talking to me, asking me about my thoughts and feelings, and giving supportive feedback in a way that no western medical practitioner ever has. As a true extrovert I couldn’t help moving into tour guide mode since I didn’t know any of them- resulting in me cracking them all up at several points as I shared intimate details of my life and the work I’ve done on self-love, self-care, and self-growth over the last three years. To me the set up was the extrovert’s dream therapy- I had a supportive audience giving me compassionate attention, plus they actively validated the work I’ve done- being told I was the most self-aware 25 year old they’d ever met was, to me, the highest praise I’ve gotten in years (from those who knew nothing else about me).

Two really crucial things came out of my initial conversation with Catherine and her team of students- and neither of them is related to the part where they put needles into me (though I’ll get to that later).

The first is that Catherine brought up mindful eating, something I’d read about long ago at the beginning of working through my eating disorder. At the time I first learned about it, I was nowhere near capable of carrying it out. Fast forward three years, with six months of daily meditation under my belt (or the spandex band of my yoga pants, if I’m being honest), I was able to add this to my mindfulness practice with really incredible outcomes. Instead of wanting to eat more at the end of a meal, I was totally full. Sometimes I even notice I’m full halfway through my meal and stop eating. I. Stop. Eating. This is unbelievable to me. I enjoy the things I cook more, and my roommates are benefiting from the most recent spate of broccoli-garlic-kale-chard-feta-toasted-hazelnut-flax-seed-quinoa bowls. (Today’s had roasted sweet potatoes in it- also bomb). I was able, for the first time ever, to truly decide that the way eating chocolate (and I drive in a tour van that has a box of Ghirardelli squares next to me… every day…) or other processed sugar makes me feel is not worth it. Now, instead of trying to prevent myself from eating candy, ice cream, etc, I physically do not want or crave it. I did not even know I was mentally capable of getting to this point. I’m sleeping better because I’m not longer coming home and binge eating at night, plus I’ve accepted that I don’t enjoy the effects of alcohol enough to want to drink it, 90% of the time. I’m in bed by 10 and waking up naturally between 5 and 6am. Every day. And I love that. I love waking up before the sun rises, having some time to myself, and being able to watch from my living room windows as the sky above the Bay turns orange, red, and pink. I love the color of the sky at dawn, and the feeling of biking through the city while it is, in essence, still asleep.

But that’s all for another blog post, because the second thing to come out of going to acupuncture has been even more striking, and undoubtedly related to everything I just said.

While running through all the typical questions, I was asked when the last time I’d gotten my period was. And well, I had no idea. I’d been taking my birth control continuously for the last.. 6 six years? Plus I’d been on it for 10. I figured it was just as convenient to not deal with getting my period if all of my healthcare providers were assuring me there was no reason not to. So I posed the question to women sitting in front of me- was there any reason I should go off of it? I’d been curious what it would be like to go off of, but hadn’t found any resource that convinced me life would be any different without it.

Needless to say, they very politically, in a non-pressuring way shared their views on the subject. They summed it up to, if it works for you great, if you are dealing with issues related to your emotions, sometimes being on hormones can have an effect on that. Those were the magic words I’d been waiting to hear, and I stopped taking it the next day. I assured them, with enough vocal emphasis to get a laugh out of the room, that I’m not currently sleeping with anyone- and since it’s looking like I may end up being celibate for nearly the entirety of my twenties- I’m not too concerned.(Cut to me telling this (with fewer details) to my 87 year old, male psychiatrist and him telling me, “it’s always a good idea to keep some prophylactics in the bedside drawer.” Just laughed out loud as I relived the memory while typing that.)

I’ve now been off the birth control for three weeks, and the difference in my overall emotional stability is shocking. I of course need to point out that this is combined with daily meditation, exercise,healthy eating, and bi-monthly therapy- but whatever the combination is, it’s working. Now, instead of heading for the kitchen when I start to be overcome with emotions (which is overall much less often), I sit and meditate, giving myself the self-love and support I need. Sometimes I’ll just lie on my bed or my rug and listen to bright eyes or death cab, the same way I used to when I was 15. And unlike the feelings of self-loathing I used to get after binge eating to try and cope with my emotions, Conor and Ben just make me feel better, by reminding me (through song nonetheless :P) that everyone feels angsty as hell and sad and upset and depressed sometimes. And diving into those feelings and really being present with them is so much better in both the short term and the long run than trying to stifle them.

I opened the freezer the other morning and took note that my roommate had obtained a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. For the first time in, well maybe ever, I felt nothing. No internal sigh, knowing that eventually I would eat all of it. No longing to sneak a spoonful even though it was 7am. Just, nothing.

It’s not uncommon for me to feel overcome by my emotions. (I suppose this is the price that comes with being a cancer- lots of feelings, both good and bad.) Unfortunately my primary immediate response to this, the one I’ve unintentionally developed in the last 9 years, is to try to block out the sensation of any “negative” emotion as quickly as possible. I think this initially happened following my first breakup at age 16 (after a year long relationship). The first few days I didn’t stop crying, didn’t eat, didn’t get out of bed. Once I had to go back to school the pain of facing the unavoidable (our school had 200 students in the high school) required that I find a way to numb my feelings to make it through the day. It wasn’t long before I found my answer: eating. Food would become something I could turn to for both solace and pleasure, and by my senior year going to Stewarts’ for extra thick chocolate peanut butter cup milk shakes was a weekly activity. I switched from running track to managing the track team- preferring to abstain from trying to keep up with my peers and instead hanging out on the sidelines.

What I didn’t realize is that I had bought myself a first class ticket to the downward spiral that comes with eating your feelings while simultaneously accepting the message that only thin is beautiful.

I spent most of college alternating between binge eating and calorie counting, preferring to stay in while my friends went out to avoid the extra alcohol calories. Deep pain from my parents divorce at age 17 (something that was impending for most of my childhood but still devastated me) manifested itself with me throwing myself into a serious long distance relationship that helped me escape my day to day life and feelings. (Ah the things we figure out in therapy).

My junior year of college I joined a gym in London, and started going six days a week. I got into the best shape of my life and wasn’t obsessing over food- though even as a size 4/6 I never thought of myself as thin. Once I was back in the States and my schedule changed I slowly fell back into old habits, and the weight crept back on without me ever realizing it was happening.

Fast forward through some end of college relationship drama and you’ll find me post-college, hurtling head long into having a full blown binge eating disorder. I alternated between intense self-hate and intense apathy. When it came down to it, eating until I felt sick- and then focusing on feeling sick- was easier than feeling, or dealing with, whatever emotions were truly at hand. (Again- therapy.)

Shortly after turning 23 I decided it was time to really learn how to love and take care of myself. I ended an unhealthy (for me) relationship, started reading books on the topic, quit my job (and the toxic environment it had me in), started seeing a therapist, and sought out more enjoyable forms of exercise. I began confiding in friends who shared their own experience, making me feel like I wasn’t alone in my self-image hell. I’ll be grateful for and to these friends for the rest of my life.

Unfortunately like most startups, my progress hasn’t been the straight up and to the right graph we all hope for. Fortunately what I have learned is that life will never look like that graph. There will always be peaks and valleys- and you couldn’t truly appreciate one without the other (the goal is to learn how to move through both gracefully).

I’ve recently started putting more effort into meditation- the headspace app has been a godsend. The effort to be more mindful (and everything from here out is probably going to sound like what my sister would call “so California”) has been challenging, but I can already feel the effects after two weeks of daily mediation. The sneaky thing about being present is that it sounds easy in theory- but it’s freaking hard in practice. Sure I can take deep breaths and count to ten repeatedly while sitting on the floor of my bedroom. What’s harder is using mindfulness to forgive myself for binge eating, or accept the things in my life I can’t control in the moment.

But it’s definitely helping, and I feel good about the direction it’s taking me in.